


Paradis

by chwangdol



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Come Eating, Fluid Sexuality, Multi, mentioned OtaYuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 00:38:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12805800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chwangdol/pseuds/chwangdol
Summary: Attraction is confusing. Pretty faces are more straightforward.Aka Mari and Yuri have a lot in common and Mari walks in on Yuri getting some.





	Paradis

**Author's Note:**

> I said I was gonna stop writing for this fandom and then I said I'd try and finish my wips but then inspiration hit for this. 
> 
> unbeta'd (as always)

To say that Mari’s sexuality has always confused her would be an understatement. She spent most of her teen years mooning over boybands while fucking girls.  Sometimes she could chalk it up to the prettiness of the boys. Other times she blamed it on the gender dysphoria that came with being lesbian. Other times she just admitted complete confusion.

She’d been with both, usually enjoying her time with women more. Her most serious relationship was with a dancer Minako introduced her to, an older Chinese woman whose husband travelled for work. They spent nights together in her too large bed and smoked together while watching sunrises.

It ended after a year. No heartbreak or tears. Just a simple goodbye.

Her brother got all of the emotions. He was the nurturer, she was the protector.

But they both share a love of pretty faces.

Yuri Plisetsky is a pretty face.

He has the hair of her favorite old idol, and an attitude that tests even her patience.

She likes his scrunched up angry face when she calls him Yurio, she likes the blush he tries to hide when her brother teases him. She loves the way his eyes get big and embarrassed when Yuuko pulls him into a hug that has his head resting on her boobs.

He’s aesthetically pleasing. His appearance is an art the same way his skating is. It’s less refined and polished but Mari’s never had a thing for the fine arts anyways.

When he’s sixteen and drunkenly crying from vodka he stole out of Viktor’s luggage, he kisses her.

Mari doesn’t push him away, lets him pull away when he finally realizes she’s not kissing back. She’s not sure if the disinterest is better or worse than rejection. Not sure how to tell him she’s not really disinterested. But he’s young and drunk and tastes like tears. She can’t deal with things that complicated.

His hiccups turn into sobs and he curls up right next to her, blabbing on about how he’s attracted to boys and girls but not equally, how he’s both happy and terrified when anyone brings up the idea of dating.

If he was sober Mari might try to explain to him that it doesn’t have to be even attraction, would try to explain to him how fluid sexuality is. Would tell him she still doesn’t understand her battling aversion and fascination with romance either.

Instead she just nods and pets his soft locks of blonde hair, picturing a king-sized bed and an ash tray colored by the setting sun, just beyond French doors.

When Yuri’s nineteen and even more full of fake confidence, Mari walks in on him.

He’s not in a bedroom, not even in a bathroom, just out where anyone in the inn could see him getting fucked by one of the skaters staying here to help with a masters workshop Yuuri and Viktor are putting on.

It’s not Yuri’s almost boyfriend that Mari shares smokes with when the other skaters get to be too much, it’s not someone she can recognize in the moonlight stripped by the windows.

But she recognizes Yuri. Yuri with his blond hair that’s half up in a bun, with his muffled noises that are still way too loud for these thin walls.

His pale skin shines in the moonlight. Now he does look like fine art. Like some painting Mari would see in a stuffy European museum based on a Greek myth.

His partner’s skin is a striking contrast against his. In sunlight probably just a shade darker, but it looks like a shadow when it reaches around to grab Yuri’s neck.

Mari doesn’t bother to move or hide herself, even when it’s clear they’re both almost finished.

If Yuri’s eyes had been opened he’d be staring right at her, but instead she can watch in secret as Yuri whimpers and spills all over the wooden floor. She continues to stare through the squelch of the dick sliding out of his ass.

His eyes don’t open until his friend asks him a series of quiet questions he responds to in grunts. He’s looking down at the ground while the guy fixes his inn-provided yukata and stumbles out of the room with a tied-off condom.

She watches a little longer, watches Yuri’s breathing settle before he retrieves his own yukata from the floor and haphazardly wraps himself in it.

He doesn’t seem to be planning on moving anytime soon, so Mari finally steps into his more direct line of sight.

They stare at each other for a bit, Yuri’s mouth in a challenging frown.

“You know I’m the one who cleans these floors, don’t you?” she says, and Yuri looks unimpressed.

“I’ll wipe it up. Fuck off,” he huffs and looks away, pushing back some of his hair.

“With what? Your yukata? I wash that too.”

He looks away, thinking she’s actually angry.

Mari moves closer, until he looks up at her.

He looks beautiful in his slight fear, hands pulling his yukata a little tighter around his body.

“Lick it up.”

Yuri blinks up at her.

“You heard me,” she says, “Lick it up.”

Yuri stays frozen in his spot, so Mari moves around to crouch down by his side and force his head down until the mess he’s made is only centimeters away.

“Clean it up, Yuri.”

He’s not putting up a fight, and she feels a shiver go through him at her commanding words.

She can just barely see his little pink tongue finally peek out and lick at the mess on the floor.

“Like an untrained dog,” she comments, “Making messes all around the house.”

She takes pity on him and pulls his hair back as he continues to lap at the floor, but she doesn’t let him up until there’s no sign of his release on the wood panels, just a sheen of saliva.

“Open,” she instructs as she pulls him back up by his hair.

Yuri opens his mouth without protest, staring at her as she checks to make sure he swallowed.

She finally rewards him with a smile and a small pat on the head, “Good boy,” she says as she stands up, and Yuri keens at the praise.

She leaves without another word, pretending she doesn’t hear Yuri’s hoarse call of, “Mari,” as he watches her disappear down the hallway.

He doesn’t follow her. She doesn’t expect him to.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on twitter! [babypeche](https://twitter.com/babypeche)
> 
> Also just realized this is basically self-insert.


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